


watch the phone and hope it rings

by pocky_slash



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-29
Updated: 2006-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: Will spends a lot of time on the phone.
Relationships: Will Bailey/Sam Seaborn
Kudos: 6





	watch the phone and hope it rings

**Author's Note:**

> A request from [](https://scrollgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[scrollgirl](https://scrollgirl.livejournal.com/) back in May: Sam/Will and long distance phone calls.

**Tuesday**

Will's exhausted and knows that he should be packing up and heading back to the hotel, but first he has to convince Sam to get off the phone, and even though he plans on calling him again before he goes to bed, he can't quite bring himself to do it.

"It sounds like you had a big day," he says, leaning back in Sam's--no, _his_ chair, his at least for the time being.

"It was a little stressful," Sam replies. "It would have been easier if Scott and Betsy listened to anything I had to say."

"They're the best in the business," Will reminds him lightly.

"I beg to differ," Sam says. "I'd still rather have you."

Will's glad that no one else is around to see him grinning like an idiot and turning slightly pink.

"If I were in California there'd be nobody here to help Toby and his head might explode," Will says, deftly deflecting the compliment, still smiling. "The inaugural address would never get written."

"You have a point," Sam says, "but I'd still rather you be here than there. I miss you." Before Will can reply, Toby appears in the doorway, as if conjured by the mere mention of his name.

"What are you still doing here?" Toby asks. Will shrugs.

"I'm on my way out the door," he says. "I was working on a draft of section twelve. It's on your desk." He hears Sam chuckle on the other end of the phone, thousands of miles and three hours difference between them. For some reason, that sound makes Will miss him acutely and almost viscerally.

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one," Will says quickly and then pauses and amends, "Sam."

Toby raises an eyebrow but doesn't pursue the line of conversation. "Go home," he says after pinning Will under a long look.

"Sure," Will says. "I just need to finish... I'll be going soon."

Sam laughs again, inducing a deeper blush on Will's part. Toby's frown deepens, but he leaves the room without further comment, leaving Sam and Will alone. They talk for another hour before Will sees the inside of his hotel room, but he doesn't mind the late hour as much as he minds the gentle ache in the pit of his stomach when he climbs into his empty bed.

**Thursday**

"I'm not sure I like the direction this part is headed in, that's all," Will says into the phone. He's lying on the floor in the office, staring at the ceiling tiles, his laptop resting on his stomach.

"And all I'm saying is that I think it's fine as an introduction," Sam says. The phone line crackles and Will misses the next part, picking up with, "--refine the start of it."

"What?" Will asks. "I missed that."

"Sorry, bad cell reception out here. I said that as long as you refine the details within that section you don't need to refine the introduction of it. Start big and then explain the smaller elements that make the big idea work." Sam pauses and Will wonders, for a moment, if the signal has gone out again. "You know all of this," Sam finally says.

"I do," Will admits. "But I still think the opening paragraph is too vague."

Toby clears his throat from the doorway, catching Will's attention.

"Did someone take your chair? 'Cause that part of the hazing wasn't supposed to start until next week," he says. Will immediately sits up, nearly sending his laptop tumbling to the floor.

"Toby?" Sam asks, but he's breaking up again.

"No, I just needed to readjust my world view," Will says. "I needed to... It was helping me think outside the box."

"How 'Philosophy 101' of you," Toby mutters. "I hope you're not using that same stunning approach on the inaugural."

Will manages to hold in his wince. "I was having trouble with the first paragraph of section seven," he explains. "I needed a different perspective."

"Right," Toby says. He pops a sliced carrot into his mouth and points at the phone.

"Um, Sam," Will says. "I thought it would be helpful to run what I had by someone else who's had to deal with this caliber of writing before." He hopes that Toby won't ask him why he's been on the phone for forty minutes, then. Toby doesn't ask, but he does give Will a peculiar look before leaving the room.

"Maybe I should go," Sam says, though he doesn't sound convinced.

"No," Will says, staring at the recently vacated door. "He's left. Finish telling me about your lunch meeting."

**Saturday**

"I'm looking at the numbers right now," Will insists, although the printouts of the polling information are actually sitting on the other side of the room, untouched.

"You are not," Sam says, his end of the phone line quiet and calm for once. "You're sitting at your desk, talking to me and teasing me about Ms. Fernandez courting me at the Hispanic American Coalition luncheon."

"It's not my desk, it's your desk," Will corrects him, but he doesn't dispute the rest of the accusation.

"I did very little to encourage her advances."

"Sam, you're a smart, funny, sexy future Congressman who's fluent in Spanish. You're basically Nikita Fernandez's type, down to a 't.'"

"Sexy?"

" _Sam,_ " Will says, but he can't help but laugh. His laughing trails off when he looks up and sees Toby standing in the doorway, dressed down for the weekend.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asks, sounding concerned, but Will ignores him in favor of forcing a smile for Toby.

"We need to talk," Toby says. Will frowns and gestures towards the phone, and in response, Toby drops a stack of papers onto the desktop.

"Will?" Sam asks again, sounding even more concerned. Will doesn't hear him, though. He's too busy paging through the papers, his ears going red as he scans the phone logs Toby has placed in front of him.

"Sam, I'm gonna have to call you back," he says, and hangs up without waiting for a response. He also refrains from looking up, though that's more out of embarrassment than carelessness.

"So," Toby says, dropping into the chair across from Will. Will still doesn't look up. Each page of the packet he's holding has about a dozen yellow lines through it, highlighting the multitude of phone calls he's been exchanging with Sam since they met in October. It's only been a little more than two months and the number of calls is astounding.

"Well," Will starts to say, "I've been very interested in--"

"Are you sleeping with Sam?" Toby asks abruptly. "No," he adds quickly, covering his eyes. "No, don't answer that question. I really don't want to know." If Will wasn't already beet red, he is now. He tries, desperately, to think of something to say, but all he can do is bite his lip and stare at the papers in front of him. "Seventy-two calls," Toby continues.

"I... can explain them," Will says slowly. He needs to think of a way to explain them first, so he needs to stall for time. "I spent a lot of time with Sam in California and... well...."

Toby rubs his forehead with one hand and holds the other up.

"Stop talking now," he says. Will complies, sitting and watching as Toby slowly lowers his hand, looking supremely frustrated. "You're sleeping with Sam." Will says nothing until Toby gestures impatiently for him to confirm.

"Yes," he mutters.

"And you decided to keep this to yourselves because...?"

"It's none of your damn business!" Will says in an impulsive fit of childish impudence. Toby's laugh is humorless and almost condescending.

"I know you're new here and I know you're used to wrangling used car salesmen to speak at rallies in Podunk, USA," he says, his voice rising steadily as he speaks, "but has it escaped your attention that you're working the White House for god's sake? That Sam is running for _Congress_?" Will winces. "Like it's not hard enough for a Democrat to run for Congress in Orange County, now you're... now you've got the front page headline for next week. 'Seaborn takes it up the ass.'" Will goes scarlet and clenches his teeth together. "This isn't high school, this is national politics! Things like this ruin careers, and if you ruin this for Sam--"

"If _I_ ruin this for Sam?" Will shoots back, cutting Toby off abruptly. "Sam isn't a passive participant in this, Toby! I'm not tying him down to have my wicked way with him! He's a part of this as much as I am! He wouldn't listen to me when I told him it should stop when he became a candidate, he wouldn't listen to me when I said it could destroy his campaign. I've been in politics all my life, Toby! I know what this can do to him and I've tried to tell him but he won't listen!" Will finishes his rant breathing heavy and staring Toby down. Seconds tick by.

"Did you get that out of your system?" Toby asks, finally.

"Yeah," Will mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks around the room, still not ready to look Toby in the eye. "Seven times," he says. "Seven times I tried to break up with him and he just ignored me."

"As much as I find this all touching..." Toby says, giving Will a significant look.

"Yeah, yeah," Will says. He has, in fact, tried to break up with Sam seven times, but that doesn't mean he didn't sigh with relief each time that Sam rebuffed his attempts. He hasn't been in a successful relationship in years. He hasn't liked someone this much in years. He hasn't had this feeling in his stomach, the one pooling there right now, this terrible feeling of disappointment as he pulls out his cellphone and pulls up Sam's number, in as long as he can remember.

He holds the phone up to his ear and bites his lip. He absolutely, positively is not going to cry. Not over Sam Seaborn and especially not in front of Toby Zeigler.

"Hey," Sam says, sounding relieved as soon as he picks up on his end. "I'm glad you called back, I was worried." Silence. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Will says. He swallows past the emotion that is absolutely not lodged in his throat. "Yeah, Sam, actually, I need to talk to you about something." He's trying to sound neutral, but he can tell something's off because he knows from Sam's sharp intake of breath that _Sam_ knows that something is off. "You know how I keep half-heartedly trying to break up with you?"

"Will," he says, but Will can tell that although Sam is trying to come off as exasperated and irreverent he's feeling the same dread that's overtaken Will himself.

Before Will can gather up the courage to say what he has to say, however, Toby sighs, clearly exasperated, from the other side of the desk.

"Oh for god's sake," he mutters, and grabs the phone from Will. "Sam, what the hell are you doing fucking Will Bailey?"

Will's eyebrows shoot up into the vicinity of his hairline.

"What, did you two practice your lines or something? He said the same thing and I'll tell you exactly what I told him. You are _trying to run for Congress_!....Sam.... _Sam_...." Will looks at Toby questioningly, but Toby just rolls his eyes. ".... _fine_ , but if this comes back to bite you in the ass... I'm serious, if you lose this election because of this there will be no force on this earth that will stop me from beating the living crap out of the two of you." He pauses again and sighs one last time, clearly aggravated. "Whatever."

Toby snaps Will's phone shut and hands it back to him.

"If this isn't the best damn speech that's ever been written," Toby says warningly, "I swear to god I will make you resent being born."

"Wait, what--"

"I'm gonna pretend this conversation never happened," he continues, "and if this comes out, I'm going to deny knowing a goddamned thing when CJ comes looking for someone to strangle. But the new rules are as follows: One, no more personal phone calls during office hours. Two, you do not use this phone to place a single call to Sam unless it's business. Three, if either of you are in the physical vicinity of the other before this election is over, by god you'd better be sure that you are completely alone before you do anything more than wave at each other. Does anyone else know about this?"

"Um... my sister," Will stutters, confused at how quickly Toby has gone from condemning the relationship to helping them. "And my Dad and stepmother."

"Oh, so just the former Supreme Commander of NATO," Toby snaps. He sounds like he's five minutes away from quitting his job in frustration.

"Hey, he's my _dad_ ," Will says. "He understands, okay? He's not going to tell anyone."

Toby gives Will a steady, stern look, but eventually relents.

"Finish what you're working on and go home, would you?" he says. "It's Saturday."

Will nods, biting his lip again. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Monday," Toby barks. "I'm sure as hell not coming in tomorrow."

Will nods again, and Toby leaves the room. He waits a few moments, watching the door in shock, before he slowly opens his phone again.

"Hey Sam," he says, smiling a little.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call back."

Will grabs his jacket and briefcase, as well as Sam's polling numbers, which are still sitting in his printer. "Well, actually, I have to get my stuff and head home, but when I get there, I'm going to call you back and make fun of your lunch with Niki Fernandez a little more, if that's okay."

"I'm looking forward to it," Sam says. Will ducks out of the office, phone still pressed to his ear, and smiles tentatively at Toby, who glares in response.

"I am too," he says.


End file.
